


When the Bard Sings

by cjwritesfanfiction



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Professor Geralt, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Slow Romance, author geralt, eventual angst but not much, non-traditional student jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjwritesfanfiction/pseuds/cjwritesfanfiction
Summary: Geralt is regarded as America's Last Great Fantasy Author due to the success of his first four books in "The Martyr" series.  But, when the fifth book in his series flops, he decides to go back to teaching to get rid of his writers block and find some inspiration for himself in order to save the last novel in his series. With fan-crazed students driving him crazy, his agent Yennefer breathing down his neck, and Geralt's own personal issues, Geralt takes comfort in one of his nontraditional students, Jaskier, whom he considers one of his only friends. As the semester progresses, Jaskier writes his life experiences in order to pass Geralt's advanced fiction writing class. In turn, Geralt finds inspiration in Jaskier's stories of the White Wolf and his mourn-filled barker, which he starts incorporating into his own novel. As he and Jaskier grow closer, Geralt starts to wonder if his legacy as an author is more important than his relationship with Jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	When the Bard Sings

_“Once regarded amongst the great authors of the fantasy genre such as Tolkien, Martin, and Lewis, G. R. Ander has undergone a fall from grace in his new book “The Martyr: Key of Tide”. The Martyr series, which chronicles the epic adventures of Henrik of Valika as he travels the land in search of the sorceress who cursed him to a life of immortal servitude, was once a staple piece of any fantasy novel lover’s collection. However, in “Key of Tide”, the always mysterious Henrik seems to have fallen flat. To simply put, Henrik’s adventures are becoming cliché and uninspiring to this critic, which is something never would have thought possible from this series. This G. R. Ander who has written “Key of Tide”, I do not know him. With the last novel of the series being published in November, I do hope Ander finds his stride again or he will become America’s (Almost) Last Great Fantasy Author.”_

_-Critic Sam Berstein on “The Martyr: Key of Tides” New York Times, January 12, 2020_

Geralt grunted leaning forward and reading the words on the screen again and again as if they would change under his glare. Sam was one of his best critics and always made sure Geralt’s novels landed on the New York Times’ Best Sellers List whenever they came out. Now, even he could see that Geralt was running out of ideas for Henrik. He pushed his glasses on top of his head and groaned rubbing his tired eyes. The Martyr series was his baby, and he didn’t want to see her slip into obscurity. The first few books in the series had been met with stellar reviews by both critics and the general public. People just couldn’t get enough of Henrik’s adventures slaying monsters, traveling the countryside, and drinking his weight in ale in every pub imaginable. Geralt himself had become a household name. He even gave up teaching at the local university to travel the world for a year to attend book signings and publisher meetings. When he signed on to complete six books for the series, he never would have guessed that he would run out of ideas after book four. Thus, _“Key of Tides”_ had been an abnormal flop, and if he didn’t get over his writing block soon, his sixth book _“The Martyr: Henrik of Valika”_ would follow in its footsteps.

Going back to teaching was Yennifer’s idea. His agent thought that if he went back to his roots, he would be able to get his inspiration back and finish the sixth book before it was due for the editors in September. But it had seemed that Yennifer had forgotten that grading also came with teaching college classes. Now, he was stuck with a lecture full of 150 100 level undergraduate English majors (whose writing was mediocre at best), a section of advanced fiction students, and a small fiction writing class. Not only did he have to grade for all of these kids, but he was also a famous author. Every time he left the office to get a drink or a coffee, he was bombarded with students asking for an autograph. When he would come back, there would be more students waiting in his office wanting his advice on their writing. It was exhausting, which is why he hadn’t done much writing lately to Yennifer’s annoyance. 

Mugs @ the Oval was the only place near campus where he could relax and actually get some work done. The café was open until nine P.M., (which meant that he was forced to go home and get some rest before he worked himself to death), had great coffee (Geralt was a little picky when it came to caffeine), and their sandwiches were to die for. Another reason why Geralt loved the little café was it was a hot spot for students. It was an odd thought, but the students were in such a hurry to get to their next class or study, it was the only place where they actually left him alone. It had become a safe haven for Geralt, and he had been coming every night since the semester started to write the sixth book. Unfortunately, tonight the review from Sam was on his mind, and he knew he wouldn’t get much work done. He leaned closer to his computer again and started to read the review from the top when a mug was placed next to him on the table. Without looking up, Geralt curled the mug into his palm and relished in the warmth. Late nights got cold in Colorado.

“Uh-oh someone’s got an angry face.” A voice teased laced with slight amusement. Geralt sighed and looked up knowing exactly who it was.

“Hello Jaskier.” He sighed and folded his arms looking up at the younger man who was almost, but not quite Geralt’s age. Jaskier was one of Geralt’s students who worked the late shift at the café Geralt had grown accustomed to every day except Sundays. Apparently, Jaskier had traveled around the country after he had graduated high school. He played at pubs for work to get by until he was able to move somewhere else to spread his music. When he was in Maine, he was asked by a customer at the bar to teach her child how to play the guitar. That’s when Jaskier claims he found a love for teaching and is why he went back to college to get his music and teaching degrees. He still wrote music in his off time, and posts the videos on YouTube, not that Geralt has seen any of the 41 songs Jaskier had posted. When Geralt first started coming to the café, Jaskier seemed to be the only student who didn’t know who the author was. The barista’s favorite pastime became annoying the author when he was trying to write. So, the duo struck an agreement. Jaskier would keep the refills coming all night so Geralt wouldn’t have to get up every five minutes and in exchange, Geralt would engage with the man the last half-hour of his shift.

“Hello yourself.” Jaskier replied and sat down across from him stretching his long limbs with a small groan. Geralt sipped his coffee as Jaskier rolled his shoulders and neck. A few small cracks escaped his aching bones. Finally, the man folded his arms and stretched his legs out as the author put away his laptop for the night. He wouldn’t get any work with Jaskier in a social mood. “So, what’s with the angry face? Yennifer finally turn down your advances? You know, I was thinking that if you offered to bring her to a Medieval torture device museum or something, she might actually go on a date with you.”

“I don’t know why I have to explain this to you every day, Jaskier. But, Yennefer is my agent _not_ my lover.” He groaned. Jaskier had come to office hours _once_ and it happened to be the day Yennefer had him pinned in the corner getting on his ass about writing. Ever since Jaskier had made jokes about Geralt trying to seduce his agent and Yennefer being some kind of dominatrix.

Jaskier put his hands up with a large grin. “Calm down, it’s just a joke.” He chuckled and leaned forward. If there was one thing Jaskier was good at, it was making someone seem like they were the most interesting, most important person in the room. Geralt was a master story teller, but it was people like Jaskier whom he imagined when he wrote those stories. “C’mon out with it. Why are you upset? Is it because I put cinnamon in your coffee to give it a little flavor?”

“Don’t put things in my coffee without my permission. And no, just some critic that got under my skin.”

Jaskier chuckled and shook his head. “Everyone’s a critic, Geralt. Who cares what they think? Do you know how many times I got booed of the stage at pubs?”

“About as many times as you played?”

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny. But, I’m serious. Would you care if some student said they hated your books?” Geralt shook his head. “Exactly. Why is this guy any different? Just focus on something you’re proud of and you’ll never be disappointed.”

Jaskier did have a point. Why did he care so much about what the critic said? He knew he was in a slump. He _knew_ that. Only Geralt himself could fix the slump he was in. But he hated how it was Jaskier who made him realize that. He grunted in response wondering how a man who was so good with words written on a page was so terrible with words that came out of his mouth. Jaskier seemed to understand the appreciation in the grunt and smiled taking a sip of his own coffee and changing the subject.

“Anyway, how are classes going? Do you have any tea about try hard fiction girl?”

“Amelia has been to all my office hours every day for the past two weeks and emailed me daily asking for revisions of an assignment I already gave her. Apparently, some people can’t handle not getting perfect marks. Last week, I heard her tell a classmate that she had become my apprentice.” He said rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Although he did enjoy students who tried in his classes, there was a certain line to be drawn and Amelia was just plain annoying.

Jaskier nodded and smiled. “She saw that Bones had gotten a better score than her and she flipped in the hall. I kinda wish you were there to see it.” He chuckled. “Has her writing gotten better at least?”

“It would if she actually took my advice.”

“That, my friend, would be too easy.” Jaskier’s watch beeped and he got up grabbing a broom. “Well, I have to close up shop. Feel free to sit in here until I need to lock back. We can walk to the bus station together.” Geralt nodded and went back to his printed-out assignments of students work. He was going to start grading Amelia’s since it would take him the longest to work through, but something pecked at the back of his mind like a woodpecker searching for next meal. It was Jaskier’s last semester in school. The man had a sparkling resume and a charming personality. There was no doubt he would find a job soon after graduating. He had decided to take Geralt’s class because he needed an elective, and thought it would be funny to annoy Geralt in class. But, Geralt would be lying if he didn’t say he was curious to see how the man wrote. . . He glanced at Jaskier who was wiping down the espresso machine. It would take a while for Jaskier to finish the closing list before they left. Why would he be paying attention to what Geralt was grading? When Jaskier had his back turned, Geralt leafed through the papers until he found what he was looking for: “Stars Under Seattle by: Julian A. Pankratz”

Geralt took one final glance at Jaskier, who was humming along to a song playing on his phone and moping behind the counter, before diving headfirst into the story Jaskier had written for his class.

_He was known as the White Wolf of SoCal and I was known as his barker writing music of his perilous adventures hunting down gang members of the city. Our life was a dangerous one. The days were filled with gunfire, blood, and violence on the west coast of California and the nights were filled with shacking up in our small one-bedroom apartment where we alternated between breaking our backs on the futon and getting sweet relief from a shitty mattress, we picked up curbside. But there were those moments where life gave us a break, and yet here we are. A small spontaneous moment was all it took to pack up the car and drive north to Washington for the weekend. Normally, he wouldn’t dare sit this close to me. But tonight is too cold, and the fire is too warm not to huddle together next to the makeshift tent watching the lights of the city flicker in the distance. To him it didn’t mean a thing besides conserving body heat under a cold moon. But to me it was so much more. Just a moment with him was enough for my feelings to fester to the surface threatening boiling over. Unless I found a way to get it out, I would have pressed my lips against his knowing he would never do the same in return. So, tonight I let my guitar weep the angst I would never be able to show to him._

“Ready to go Geralt?” Jaskier asked bundled up in his winter coat, red beanie and matching scarf. Geralt nodded and slipped on his own scarf to brave the cold night. Perhaps his Henrik needed a bard of his own. . .


End file.
